Well… the Miami Heat traded up three spots in the 2011 NBA Draft, into the first round at No. 28, to select what it believes was the most promising point guard available in Norris Cole. It was a welcome aggression for a typically draft-passive organization.

We can debate whether Cole was the right guy for the pick.

Riley wanted a “pure” point guard; he got his man.

He got a talented one at that. When a player scores 41 points, grabs 20 rebounds, and dishes out 9 assists in a single game (even if it was versus an admittedly forgettable Youngstown State team), you know he’s a serious offensive threat. When that player also nabs his conference’s Player of the Year and Defensive Player of the Year awards in the same season (even if it was in the admittedly forgettable Horizon League), you have Norris Cole.

Cole rated out as the fourth and fifth best pure point guard in the draft, respectively, by Riley and ESPN draft guru Chad Ford. Riley had him ranked No. 18 on his draft board; Ford had him going as high as No. 21. But as a slender guard with short arms and questionable range, showcasing his talents in an inferior conference, he’s far from a sure thing. Time will tell.

We can debate whether trading up was necessary and justified.

Supporters will point to the fact that Riley was cognizant that the Spurs could jump in front of the Heat and select a point guard at No. 29, and in fact they did. Detractors will point to the wealth of available alternatives no matter whom the Spurs selected, as well as the enhanced financial obligations to a first round pick in what figures to be an uncertain salary cap environment.

No matter what you believe, the price was steep. More steep than necessary?

The Heat surrendered to the Wolves the Wolves’ own 2014 second round pick (figure it to be another in the early 30s) and cash considerations to move up three spots. The Bulls, as part of the same trade, surrendered to the Wolves a less attractive second round pick (No. 43) and cash considerations to move up five more valuable spots. The Bulls gave up less and got more.

In the 2010 draft, pick Nos. 25 and 31 were each sold for cash.

It would appear that adding in cash alone, or perhaps instead a future second round pick of their own, would have made for an eminently more reasonable swap for the Heat. It would appear that trading away the Wolves’ own 2014 second round pick and cash considerations would be enough to simply buy the No. 28 pick outright, without the need for a swap. Imagine the Heat with Norris Cole and a second youthful player selected with the No. 31 pick. Of course, we will never know whether such alternatives were bargained for.

And so now the Heat has just two low-level first round and five low-level second round draft picks over the next five years.

We, South Floridians, tend to think of Pat Riley as a masterful negotiator in trade. But, at least as relates to involving draft picks in such trades, recent results are hardly impressive. And, as this post depicts, ignoring the value of a future draft pick can be exceedingly costly.

The Heat has, in effect, traded away Michael Beasley in return for the draft rights to Norris Cole. If, as a result, the team has identified a key contributor, then all is well. If, by chance, the team has identified a deserving starter, then all is wonderful.

Is Norris Cole the Heat’s answer at point guard? The pressure is on.

And so it goes for Pat Riley and the Miami Heat.

Here’s to wishing Mr. Cole all the success in the world.

Pat Riley had a plan. He executed upon it with deadly precision. He got the big things so right that it almost didn’t matter how he handled the little things.

But not all of those little things went perfectly.

What if he did better with those little things? With the 2011 NBA draft now bearing down on us, would it have made any difference?

Navigating the uncertain waters of the draft has always been a special kind of hell for Riley. Riley’s draft record with the Heat reads more like a comedy of errors than it does a serious attempt at identifying talent.

Since having Dwyane Wade fall into his lap in 2003, only three players he’s selected have ever played more than eleven big-league minutes for the Heat – Dorell Wright, Wayne Simien, and Michael Beasley. The very next players taken in those drafts were Jameer Nelson, David Lee, and, two picks down, Russell Westbrook.

Even when Pat gets it right, he gets it wrong. Da’Sean Butler was labeled the steal of last season’s draft. But, for some (inexcusable) reason, Riley decided to offer Butler a contract while he was still recovering from his traumatic left knee injury. The contract sealed his fate. Da’Sean is no longer part of the Heat’s future.

Perhaps it is something of a blessing that he now has just eight picks, just two first rounders, to deal with over the next five years.

Was it a combination of strong basketball decisions or his strong aversion to the type of scrutiny that comes with the draft that led Riley and the Miami Heat to this position?

Riley again yesterday openly described his aversion.

“I don’t think you win championships with young, athletic players that don’t have experience. I think we’ve learned over the years that building with young players is very frustrating.”

But what if things were different?

What if the Heat had made some different decisions along the way?

There was Dorell Wright.

In a season to that point mired in frustration, and seemingly defined by the anticipation of things to come, keeping Wright at the trade deadline was perhaps the single most popular decision the Heat brass made. Riley and crew decided that Wright’s presence was more of a priority than the estimated $7.6 million addition to owner Micky Arison’s already fat wallet.

Wright responded in kind, offering some of the best work of his career.

But not all of us were so thrilled. A select few among us realized that if the Heat were to be successful in its bid for three max contract free agents, the team would need to soak up every possible opportunity to create depth around them.

The Grizzlies were offering a lottery-protected first round pick in return for his services. This select few realized that, despite Wright’s overwhelming popularity and still very much untapped potential, 26 final games from an unrestricted-free-agent-to-be was simply not worth $7.6 million and a future first round draft pick (particularly since Bird rights played no factor; the Heat’s ability to re-sign Wright in free agency would not have been hindered in any way by trading him). That pick ended up being No. 20 overall in tomorrow’s draft.

There was Daequan Cook.

We all understood the rationale behind surrendering the No. 18 overall pick in last year’s draft in order to be free of all obligations to Cook. With such high stakes, Miami could hardly afford to gamble on either the $2.2 million devoted to Cook or the $1.2 million to be devoted to whomever the pick would have become.

But not all of us agreed on the approach. Some of us felt that the $2.2 million could rather easily be shed simply by offering a potential suitor up to the $3.0 million cash limit the CBA allows. How many unprofitable smaller-market teams could realistically pass up the opportunity to add backcourt depth in the form of a young and developing Three-Point Shootout champion not only free of charge, but at an $830k profit?

These same people felt that treating the No. 18 overall pick with such apathy was imprudent, that it could be better utilized in a trade for a similar such pick in a future draft. As it turns out, Oklahoma City did just that. The Thunder traded the pick to the L.A. Clippers for a 2012 first round pick (top-10 protected through 2015, unprotected in 2016).

There was the Big Three.

When Chris Bosh and LeBron James made their decisions, there was elation. When they were signed, there was controversy.

Surrendering four first round picks and two second round picks, in addition to two large trade exceptions, seemed a bit excessive to some of us for a couple of players who were otherwise already committed to the Miami Heat. It seemed a bit excessive in return for nothing more than a sixth season tacked on to an already huge five-year contract.

The question has been asked. What if things were different?

Let’s try to answer it.

Mario Chalmers and Mike Bibby would still be battling it out for starter’s minutes at the point.

Eddie House and Da’Sean Butler would be battling it out for reserve two-guard minutes. Mike Miller would, unfortunately, be playing under a long-term contract elsewhere.

James Jones would still be the Heat’s primary reserve small forward.

Udonis Haslem’s contract would remain unaltered.

The disastrous contingent of Heat centers would remain unaltered (assuming, of course, that Pittman would have still been on the board at No. 41; no mock draft had him even being selected).

LeBron James and Chris Bosh would be playing under full maximum contracts, sacrificing that sixth year guarantee in exchange for an added $8.4 million over the first five.

Dwyane Wade would still be playing under a six year contract, earning $4.8 million more than he is today.

And the Miami Heat would have six – yes, six! – more first round draft picks and two more second round draft picks over the next five years, including a likely lottery pick from the Clippers in 2012 and a potential unprotected first round pick from the Raptors in 2015.

In short, the Heat would have produced the very same roster, save for swapping out Mike Miller for Da’Sean Butler, and would have stockpiled a whopping eight first round picks and eight second round picks over the next five years.

That’s 16 picks in just five years! No other team in the league has anywhere near that total.

(For those that are counting, the first round picks would have been: Miami’s own 2011-15, Memphis’ 2011, L.A. Clippers’ top-10 protected 2012, and Toronto’s potentially unprotected 2015. The second round picks would have been: Miami’s own 2013-2015, Oklahoma City’s 2011, Minnesota’s 2011 and 2014, New Orleans’ 2012, and Memphis’ top-55 protected 2012.)

One has to wonder.

What would two first round picks (Nos. 20, 28), a second round pick (No. 31), and the Clippers’ top-10 protected first round pick in next year’s draft get you? A top ten pick in this year’s draft? More?

What would two first round picks (Nos. 20, 28), a second round pick (No. 31), the Clippers’ top-10 protected first round pick in next year’s draft, and what figures to be a fully unprotected Raptors first round pick in 2015 get you? The No. 2 overall pick from a Minnesota Timberwolves team actively looking to trade it? More?

The possibilities with that grouping of picks would have, in this fictional reality, been endless.

If Riley’s aversion to the draft was ever present, think of the potential trade possibilities. By way of example, rumor would have you believe that the Phoenix Suns were shopping Marcin Gortat and their No. 13 pick for the No. 2 pick. Imagine if the Heat had acquired that No. 2 pick, and then pulled the trigger on this trade (involving, perhaps, Joel, the unguaranteed contract of Dexter, and any one of the minimum contractors who picks up his second year option to make the math work).

How would Gortat look in a Heat uniform? He’s huge, he’s athletic, he’s among the best pick-and-roll operators around, he’s got a soft touch around the rim, he’s got good range, he’s a solid post defender, and he’s a beast on the boards. Is there a more perfect fit for this Miami Heat team, outside of Dwight Howard, in the whole of the NBA? Can you imagine how dominant such a Big Four would be?

How would Jimmer Fredette look with that No. 13 pick?

How would it feel to have secured both Gortat and Fredette, and still have four first round and seven second round picks to play with over the next five years?

It’s not as if an entirely unrealistic scenario is being painted here. Many of us were questioning each one of these little decisions made by Riley and his crew as they were happening. Of course, they are now important only for those among us who choose to live in the past.

The lesson, however, remains the same: Ignore the NBA draft at your own peril.

Here’s to hoping for a good day tomorrow.

Here’s to hoping the Miami Heat spend the time and effort in seeking out the best possible fit for this team. Reggie Jackson? Charles Jenkins?

Here’s to hoping that, no matter who it is the Miami Heat select, they take the time to properly develop him.

They conspired. They manipulated. They hatched a wicked plan nearly three years in the making and executed upon it with deadly precision in the span of less than forty-eight hours, to the shock and awe of supporters and detractors alike. They changed the rules for defining success in basketball’s greatest league to such an unprecedented extent that we’re all left searching for ways to invalidate the possibility in any new collective bargaining agreement to come. Hate the Miami Heat for it.

Hate them for what they did.

They bought themselves a contender. The league essentially gave them a blank check to buy every big name on the free agent market and they did. They didn’t plan carefully. They didn’t earn their successes by enduring years of mediocrity. They just opened up their wallets and paid what nobody else could. There’s simply no honor in that.

It is far more honorable to draft and develop, to struggle season after season without taking steps to improve the franchise if the fruits of those struggles are consecutive lottery picks rather than freed up cap space. It is far more honorable to strong-arm smaller-market, salary-dumping teams that cannot otherwise afford to keep their talent into making lopsided, megastar trades.

Hate them for how they did it.

There was the issue of timing.

We, as a nation, have such a high standard of morality as to cry foul when impending free agents wish to speak with each other about the possibility of teaming up if such conversations happen in the few days leading up to the official start of free agency, because even though the timing of such conversations has absolutely nothing to do with the ultimate outcome, they are a violation of a set of rules we each understand completely and believe in deeply. We find it appalling that a couple of friends approaching the ends of their contracts would have the audacity to discuss the possibility of seeking employment together.

It may strike us as odd that we, as a nation of such high moral character, can lodge such allegations without any actual evidence. But never mind that. We don’t need facts. We’re perfectly right to disregard that twenty-nine competing NBA franchises did not have issue enough (or, perhaps, evidence enough) to mention it to the commissioner – who would then, bound by the rules we hold so dear, be forced to investigate… and dole out the stiffest of penalties the league allows for any such violations uncovered.

There was the issue of loyalty.

We should vilify the game’s best player for having the temerity to leave his hometown team after seven seasons of unrivaled individual success but little in the way of what really matters to show for it. This hometown hero, its heart and soul, its lifeblood, was nothing more than a caricature of loyalty. How dare such an incredible athlete put the prospect of winning a title above all else. He should be ostracized for such unthinkable behavior.

We’re okay if a certain star from Los Angeles crucifies his team in front of a national audience and demands a trade, and then goes on to demand that certain of his teammates be traded. We’re even okay if that certain someone hails from Denver, and he holds his team hostage during the middle of an active NBA season while demanding a trade to a single team, providing his organization with no other options, and showing no apparent regard for his teammates or hometown fans in the process. We’re okay with these actions because our standard applies only to the best player in the game. All others are free to move without encountering our wrath.

We empathize with Clevelanders. Its residents are of too high a moral character for such a grand betrayal. Burning jerseys, death threats, ridiculous tongue-lashings from former owners – these are all perfectly appropriate responses to a single man’s decision to seek employment elsewhere. They are the actions of people deserving our sympathy.

There was the “Decision.”

How could a man possibly use a national audience for such a sickening hour-long display of pure narcissism? When all fourteen million of us tuned in from around the nation with eager anticipation, we thought he was planning to discuss the weather. We were utterly floored when LeBron used such a grand stage to announce the team for which he was planning to start the next phase of his NBA career. That’s why we were sickened with disgust when it was all over, but perfectly okay with it as it was happening. We weren’t glued to our television sets to celebrate his decision on the off chance he named our own favorite teams, setting our own favorite teams up for a title run. We simply had no idea what was coming. We were blind-sighted. We had no idea he was such a narcissist.

How could we? It’s not like any other professional athletes are narcissists, certainly not recently retired seven-foot basketball stars. It’s not like he was our own creation. The media didn’t put him on the cover of Sports Illustrated at 16 years-old. Fans didn’t pack high school gyms so tightly that his Saint Vincent Saint Mary’s team had to find larger venues. ESPN didn’t nationally televise his games. We didn’t herald him as the ideal mix between Magic, Michael, and Dr. J, a force so great that his dominance would be unparalleled. We certainly didn’t expect anything but humility while we anointed him “King.” This wasn’t the life we thrust upon him before he even graduated from high school.

We’re not at all to blame. We’re not eviscerating a person’s reputation for something we created. We’re not hypocrites for revering him during his entire seven year reign in Cleveland, and branding him a narcissist the moment he decided to leave. That one fateful day in July truly was the day we discovered his narcissism. And the fact that we ourselves are not equally narcissistic gives us ample reason for hate. Dan Gilbert, the man who tried so desperately to retain a player who he called a “coward” and a “quitter,” has it all right.

But what really pushed it all over the edge was his failure to inform his former employer in advance. That would have made everything okay. That few minutes makes all the difference in the world. Because we all inform our contemptible former employers what we plan to do next in our lives, particularly when we suspect they will demonize us for our decision. We would all have the type of courtesy that Dan Gilbert showed LeBron in return for years of dedication to his team and city.

There was the premature celebration.

How could LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh take part in an act of such vanity, rising from beneath a smoking metal stage – before one quarter had been played, before one victory had been secured – and claiming to have orchestrated the birth of a historical dynasty right before our eyes? We, as a nation, understand that this blatant mockery and disrespect for the struggles a championship team endures was meant to humiliate the rest of the league and all of its fans. It’s not as if they were celebrating the best free agent haul in NBA history in their own city, in their own arena, in front of their own crowd. It’s not as if they were trying to inspire excitement from their own fan base. And it’s certainly not as if the media decided to broadcast the celebration across the country simply to capitalize on the pulse of the nation. The media would never do such things.

Hate these bastards for who they are. Hate them!

Hate them for their total lack of anything resembling character, humility, graciousness, or any other positive human trait.

Hate LeBron James for sacrificing his legacy and his worldwide fan base for a shot at a title. Hate him for sacrificing $16 million and, more importantly, the notoriety that comes with being a so-called “maximum contract player,” in part to create the cap space required to secure a roster spot for the long-time friend of his new teammate, a man he hardly knew (Udonis Haslem). Qualify his pay-cut as an attempt at perceived modesty, but not the “Decision” as simply a bad decision. Qualify his donation of the $2.5 million in proceeds generated from that bad decision to the Boy & Girls Clubs of America as just a byproduct of his narcissism, but ignore the impact it has had on the lives of children in desperate need. Ignore an entire career of giving both his time and money to a wide range of charities, for which the NBA has bestowed upon him its Community Assist Award, unmatched by nearly every one of us who now condemns him.

Imagine the audacity of this man to create financial stability for himself through his profession, and still have the mind to give back to those in need. Imagine the audacity of a man to rise above his difficult childhood circumstances – born to an uninterested ex-con father and a 16-year old mother, growing up in the seediest neighborhoods of Akron, surrounded by criminals – and limit his lifelong off-court transgressions to perhaps the occasional traffic ticket. This isn’t a man best described as a role model.

Hate Dwyane Wade for considering the Bulls, contemplating the notion in order to do what was best for his family amid a custody dispute over his children at the time living in Chicago. Hate him for sacrificing $18 million, in part so that his team could create the cap space required to secure a roster spot for the long-time friend of his new teammate (Mike Miller).

Hate Chris Bosh for wherever it is you think he strayed from the path of perfection we all follow. Hate him for sacrificing $16 million for no apparent reason at all.

Hate Udonis Haslem for sacrificing $13 million in what could very well be his final NBA contract so that he could remain by the side of his dying mother and the rest of his family.

Hate James Jones for sacrificing $1 million in buyout money after he had already been waived so that his hometown Heat could acquire the necessary cap space for a third max contract free agent and make this whole dream possible, a team he no longer played for. Hate Pat Riley for doing right by the sacrifice and offering Jones a new contract in return for his selflessness.

Hate them for oozing arrogance and celebrating boisterously, but never disparaging. There were no “fake tough guy” snipes, no “great actors” accusations, no allegations of dirty play levied after all the choke-holds and take-downs, no blasting of players or officials or cities or fans, and no retaliation when such comments were laid upon them. About the best we could do was to criticize LeBron for muttering the phrase “that’s retarded” at the retarded notion that his teammate would intend to injure an opposing player and apologizing for it after the world ignored the context.

Do whatever you must to fuel that hatred and ensure its survival. Create an ever-expanding list of reasons to justify it, and apply it exclusively to the Miami Heat and its players, while casually ignoring its applicability to most players and most teams across the league.

Call them floppers, but ignore the reality. Sports Illustrated ran an informal player poll in April – just two months ago – asking for the NBA’s biggest floppers. More than a third of the league’s current players, 152 in total, were polled. Among the top 15 players named as floppers were Manu Ginobili, Derek Fisher, J.J. Barea, Kobe Bryant, and Paul Pierce. Not a single current Heat player made the list.

Call them whiners, but ignore the reality. Sports Illustrated ran an article at the start of the season devoted to the league’s most notorious whiners, in response to the league’s new crackdown on complaining. Nearly every major superstar made the top 15. The list includes Kobe Bryant, Tim Duncan, LeBron James, Paul Pierce, Ray Allen, Manu Ginobili, Carmelo Anthony, Dwight Howard, Amare Stoudemire, Steve Nash, and Dirk Nowitzki, among others. The fact of the matter is that everybody whines. The Heatles are no different.

Call them thugs, but ignore the reality. Not a single current Heat player has ever received any notoriety for dirty play prior to this, perception-altered-by-hate, season. Among the teams commonly associated with such behavior are the Celtics (Kevin Garnett’s swinging elbows and trash talking, Paul Pierce’s chronic jersey pulling and newfound affinity for head-butting, Rajon Rondo’s player-into-scorer’s-table launching) and Lakers (Ron Artest’s exceedingly violent behavior, Kobe Bryant’s notorious cheap shots, Andrew Bynum’s vicious forearms, and even Lamar Odom’s recent frustration-induced rage). It just so happens that these are nonetheless the league’s two most popular teams.

When they lose, call them idiots for thinking they could make it work. When they win, call them inferior for not doing it alone. But ignore Chicagoans salivating at the prospect of pairing Derrick Rose with Dwight Howard. Ignore New Yorkers salivating at the prospect of pairing Carmelo Anthony and Amare Stoudemire with Chris Paul. Ignore Mark Cuban’s all out effort to pair Dirk Nowtizki with LeBron after more than a decade of regular season success and post-season failure. Ignore the big three in Boston. Ignore the big four in L.A.

Ignore the fact that Wade is nice, James is fun, Bosh is sincere, the team is a family, and the way they play the game is so damn selfless.

Ignore the fact that any mistakes that may have been made along the way have been intentionally blown out of proportion by a media craving a headline.

Ignore the fact that we allowed ourselves to get manipulated into losing perspective.

And so now that the Heat has been taken out in Game 6 of the NBA Finals, you have your wish. We’ve been humbled. We’ve been humiliated.

And so now, as with all things left unsaid and undone, we can only wait for another chance.

Thank you to the Miami Heat for a wonderful season. You have shown class in the face of immaturity. You have shown poise in the face of irrationality. I, for one, appreciate it.

Congratulations to the Dallas Mavericks on being NBA champions.